


and they could never tear us apart

by verynearlysouffled



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Banter, F/M, Fighting, Fluff, in chapter 4 specifically, theoretically anyway, they're just not very good at being lovely to each other but they do love each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27432511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verynearlysouffled/pseuds/verynearlysouffled
Summary: Collection of one-shots from valc0 and ineternity’s 'Spyvember' prompts for Thirteenth Doctor/Dhawan!Master fluff. Whether I achieve fluff is to be seen.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 27





	1. Clothing Swap

**Author's Note:**

> i impulsively decided i'd like to do the spyvember challenge from valc0 and ineternity with the overall goal of just simply finishing it, so...... here we are. one-shots vary in length and quality, and they maybe aren't totally fluffy always. i try my best, but i really live for the yearning, slow-burn, banter kind of stuff. in any case, the positive emotions are there, sort of, even if they don't always act like they love each other <3
> 
> title from inxs' 'never tear us apart'.

“This is ridiculous,” the Master spat out, pulling off the coat quickly.

“I want my clothes back,” the Doctor replied, uninterested.

“I once watched you forget to shower for four days straight, you’ve never been bothered by how you look before,” the Master replied, shaking blonde hair out of their eyes.

“That’s different,” the Doctor said, passing over the bundle of clothes and accepting a bundle back. “I was still wearing my blue coat. I love my blue coat.”

“I just think purple suits that body so much more,” the Master argued, albeit still putting the purple clothes back on their body. “That being said, the rainbows never-”

“You don’t like the rainbows?” the Doctor interrupted, eyes puppy-wide staring back. It was strange seeing those eyes staring back at them - they had been their eyes not thirty minutes prior, after all - but as a Time Lord, adjusting to a new body was simple enough. The differences however between regeneration and this body swap were, excluding the pain and confusion of regeneration, far more bothersome.

In any case, the Master stopped in their tracks, halfway between buttoning up their shirt, somewhat regretting their words now. Not that they’d ever show that. With an eye roll, the Master spoke again. “With a body and face like this, you could do so much more. That’s all.” It was a backhanded compliment, but the way the Doctor’s wide-eyed face shifted to a frown-in-thought, before changing again to a quite satisfied smile, it was apparently close enough to the right thing to say.

“I’m just glad you’ve learnt that you can wear a colour other than black,” the Doctor responded, moving on quickly. “The purple is nice.”

The Master nodded in agreement. “Yes, I must say I have enjoyed stepping out of my comfort zone.”

Then with both the Time Lord’s fully changed back into their regular clothing, they both stopped and stared at each other now, assessing the end result.

“It looks… wrong,” the Master finally said, brow furrowed in thought at the sight of their body in the light colours and rainbows. The shirt was stretched strangely across the shoulders and body, really designed for the smaller frame that they were currently sporting instead. The trousers meanwhile would barely go up all the way, and while mostly covering everything of importance, didn’t actually button up. The thighs were looking uncomfortably stretched as well, with a few seams bulging.

The Master meanwhile was drowning in their clothes, shirt too large, trousers a touch too long (small mercies that they normally were only a few inches taller than the Doctor). In fact, they’d had to resort to holding the trousers in place.

“Yeah, kinda does,” the Doctor finally admitted, head tilting in thought. Soon they shrugged it off, turning away to walk back into the main console room of the TARDIS, shouting loudly, “Fam! Does this still suit me?!”


	2. Pillow fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, like always, has managed to get them into trouble, and the Master has a bit of an issue with it.

“I can’t believe you got us locked up,” the Master sighed loudly, gracefully slumping to the floor, his new prison-issued pillow and blanket held tight in one hand.

“Oi! Not my fault!” the Doctor interrupted, still pacing the room. He’d accepted much earlier that this was the end result from her interference in the political debate occurring, but unfortunately had stuck around and been dragged along as accomplice. It made him wish he’d actually assassinated the King now, because at least then he’d have done something that felt productive. He hated to be this listless.

“Idiot,” he eventually threw back. Then, for good measure, actually threw his pillow at her.

The Doctor’s eyes widened, fury rising, lips tightening, and he almost regretted it instantly. Almost. It was just nice to be reminded that this absolute moron he reluctantly accompanied was also the notorious Oncoming Storm, among a range of other on-the-nose epithets that really didn’t suit someone who dressed in rainbow t-shirts and too-short trousers.

Then the pillow flew right back into his face with such speed and heat that he was taken aback a moment.

It didn’t last long. He was on his feet now, pillow held tight within both hands and whacking it atop her head. She was doing the same, only aimed at a shoulder (he had the material benefit this time, those two inches of height were everything). Then, the dirty player she was, she stood on his foot. _**Really hard.**_

“For Rassilon’s sake!” he shouted, stepping back on instinct.

The Doctor looked rather chuffed with herself, smiling with a cheeky grin. A half-hearted shrug, and she sat down next to Ryan, who was staring at the both of them. If he was being honest, the Master had kind of forgotten Ryan was there at all.

“You two need to learn some better communication techniques.”

“Oh, shut up,” the Master and the Doctor both shot back in unison. They exchanged a glare, though there was little heat to it from either, and the Master slumped back down to the ground in his original position.

A moment later, Ryan spoke again. “Also, Doctor, when did you become such a cheater?”

Maybe Ryan was alright, actually.


	3. Comfort animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor has had the same old striped pig-bear toy since she was seven-years old. It’s not that she likes it, rather the opposite actually, it just has a funny ability to regenerate. The Master finds it and decides to torture them all with it, until it gets a mind of its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> arguably this features a (dis)comfort animal. i’m sorry i’m good at doing the opposite of a prompt 😂 this one is definitely longer than the others, and does feature more fluff. sort of.

Walking into the TARDIS kitchen, the Doctor suddenly stopped, arms flying up with an undignified, “Ahh!”

What the _fuck_ was that doing there?

“Oh yes, I found _Bertie_.” Bertie, a stuffed toy version of a striped pig-bear (an animal native to Gallifrey), was sitting on the kitchen bench, and standing beside it was a grinning Master.

“ _Where_?!” the Doctor replied, eyes never drifting from the toy’s own glittering, beady ones. Those eyes were so, so cold. And the _smile_. That smile did nothing to belie the malevolent nature of the toy.

The Master shrugged. “I was doing some cleaning up in the TARDIS tip-“

“Why were you in the tip? It doesn’t need a clean up. Were you snooping?”

The Master gasped, hand falling to his chest in horror. “Me? Snooping?” Two heart beats later, he dropped the dramatics. “Yes, I was snooping.”

“I don’t know what you expect to find,” the Doctor said, still watching the toy.

The Master shrugged. “Anything of interest. Weapons, secrets, blackmail material. Which brings me back to Bertie. Why on _Gallifrey_ do you still have this beast?”

The Doctor glanced away from the toy only for a second to look at the Master, before her eyes darted right back. In a small, horrified voice she said, “I keep trying to get rid of it, but it just keeps coming back.”

“Just dump it on Earth,” the Master argued.

The Doctor shook her head. “Tried that.”

“Decapitate it.”

“Tried that.”

“Rip it apart and hide the tiny pieces in different corners of the universe.”

“Tried that.”

“Just throw it into a sun.”

“Tried that.”

The Master finally stopped. “Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah,” the Doctor said, slumping into one of the kitchen chairs and watching the toy thoughtfully. “I tried giving it to Susan once. She _loved_ it.”

“You gave your haunted childhood toy to your beloved granddaughter?” the Master said. “Why not one of the ugly mean grandchildren?”

“Hey! None of my grandchildren were ugly or mean!” The Doctor did manage to pull her eyes away long enough to glare at the Master this time. “But they did all scream at the sight. Except Susan.”

“Wacky Susan,” the Master said nostalgically, sliding into one of the other seats.

“I still can’t believe she took it with us,” she said. “I thought it was my chance to leave it behind, but no. Wouldn’t have worked anyway.”

From behind them at the doorway came a sudden yelp. “What the fuck is that?” Ryan said.

“Bertie,” the Doctor answered.

“It’s haunted,” the Master added helpfully, smiling.

“Yeah, I believe that. Gramps!”

“What is it, son?” Graham came in behind Ryan, and helped when he saw it. “What is _that_? Where the hell did that come from? Yaz, do you coppers carry guns yet?”

“Why, what’s wrong- Woah! Is this your doing?!” This was aimed at the Master, with an accusing hand pointing straight at the pig-bear.

“I’d blame Granny Three, she was a witch after all.”

“She was not a witch!”

“She was a witch! You’d think a Time Lord would know the difference between magic and science, but Granny Three decided that that science stuff was utter rubbish.”

“She was the only one of my grans that liked you,” the Doctor pointed out. “There’s a reason for that.”

“She was also the coolest. Haunted toy, aside.”

“What the hell are you two on about?” Graham finally interrupted. “And where did that toy go?”

The Doctor and the Master looked at each other with wide eyes. “Oh no.”

—

That night, the Doctor found herself pacing outside the Master’s room. Since the disappearance of Bertie, her hearts hadn’t stopped racing, and she kept turning to look behind her, eyes darting across the room at every small movement.

It only took one more echoing giggle and growl from somewhere afar, deep within the TARDIS’ depths, for the Doctor to fling open the door and barge inside, closing it behind her and locking it for good measure.

“Can I help you?”

The Master was sitting in an armchair beside his bed, glasses on his face (he wore glasses?) and a book in hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, waving him off. But she stood with her back pressed to the door. “Though, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Bertie around?”

“No, I can’t say I have,” the Master replied. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason, not at all,” the Doctor said. “What are you up to tonight? Bit of reading? Anything good?”

The Master snorted, smiling as he put down his book and stood up from the chair, coming closer to the Doctor. “Doctor, are you afraid of Bertie?”

“Any sensible person would be,” she argued. “Now that he’s out and about in the TARDIS.”

The Master rolled his eyes. “What do you think Bertie’s going to do to you? He’s been on board the TARDIS for the last 1500 years, hasn’t he? He hasn’t done anything yet, so what’s he going to do now?”

The Doctor’s face scrunched up. The possibilities were endless.

Finally, the Master spoke again, with a deep sigh. “Do you want to stay here with me?”

“A sleepover? Excellent, love a sleepover,” she said, flinging herself further into the room (after checking the door was locked, of course). She bounced onto the bed, sitting cross-legged and watching him. “I’m great at sleepovers.”

“I remember,” the Master said, pulling his glasses off and placing them on the bedside table. “And get your boots off my bed. I’d ask if you were raised in a barn, but I already know the answer to that.”

The Doctor kicked them off, not even complaining about his tone. “Do you have any snacks?”

“No.”

“Fun games?”

“No.”

“Spooky stories?”

“Do you really need _more_ spooks in your life? Look, Doctor, I haven’t slept for five days, and I know you’re up to fifteen-”

“That’s a lie-”

“You’re up to fifteen days. I notice. Now get into the bloody bed, will you?”

The Doctor was frowning in surprise, eyes watching the Master anxiously, as if waiting for a joke or insult to come flying behind the order. But it didn’t. There was something… _soft_ in his eyes, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen something like that from him. She supposed now, thinking about it, it hadn't even been an order. But a suggestion. A suggestion made out of, just maybe, the goodness of his hearts.

So she shuffled up the bed, sliding into the covers. The Master soon followed, and they were lying beside each other. Something inside the Doctor said that maybe this should be weird. That maybe going to sleep beside your best enemy was something left for memories and daydreams. But his breathing was even and his heartbeats could be heard from so close, and she felt something inside her calm. He still smelled the same. Just like all those years ago on Gallifrey.

The Doctor rolled over a little to look at him, curious. He’d turned the light off by this point, but when she looked she noticed he was watching her, those same soft eyes. She looked away, eyes resting on his mouth, his neck, anywhere but those eyes.

“You’ll protect me from the haunted Bertie, yeah?” she finally said, desperately needing the air in the room to ease.

“Only if you promise we can throw it into a black hole tomorrow,” he replied, and there was a smile on his lips. Only small, but genuine.

“It won’t work,” she replied.

“It’ll be fun.”

A beat passed. “Yeah, alright then. You’re catching him though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess the true comfort animal was love all along :’) tbh my headcanon is that granny three was doing some experimenting and made it a ‘fixed point in time’. it's also definitely probably haunted by some time lord who got caught inside the toy. at least captain jack harkness can have one constant companion in life.


	4. Necks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and the Master are two of the most notorious and dangerous vampires in history, especially when they are together. But sometimes even death doesn't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is loosely based off buffy the vampire slayer, but you shouldn't need to know anything about buffy to follow along with this. if you DO know buffy, the doctor is a vague version of angel and the master is a vague version of spike, but it is a very, very loose connection. also this is maybe the closest i have ever gotten to writing smut. it very much isn't actually smut, but they are also definitely horny vampires. that's why i've had to up the rating of this fic, purely because of this chapter.
> 
> also, i've decided to do the spyvember prompts out of order, just for the sake of my inspiration and ability to actually write, thus the skipping forward to 'necks' prompt. anyway, enjoy!
> 
> trigger warning for blood.

_1796_

Harry swallowed back the lump that had formed in his throat, backing up, slowly, surely, until finally he found his back against the wall.

The woman didn’t stop though. Her shoes clicked on the cobblestones, and her teeth glittered behind ruby lips.

“Harold, was it?” she asked, smiling. Harry managed a smile of his own, anxious, weak, faltering. “Or do you prefer Harry?”

“Y-yes-” he managed, not sure which question he was answering before she was against him, a finger running down his neck. “Ma’am-”

“Shhhh,” she offered gently, her hand moving his head to the side as she began to lay small kisses against the skin of his neck. He gasped, some combination of horror, surprise, pleasure.

She pulled back, smile still glittering, but there were…

“Oh, God.”

Somehow, she seemed to smile wider, fangs poised at the ready, her eyes a dark yellow and her face, by God there were no words for-

He didn’t get to finish that thought, because suddenly he was being held in place, her hand in his hair gripping him in place as those glittering fangs were _in him_ , in his neck. Harry already felt woozy, a hand falling to her shoulder to try and hold himself up, to try and push her away, to try and push her _closer_ maybe. He wasn’t sure. His head spun, his mind twirled with thoughts of this _thing_ attacking him, _murdering_ him at this very moment.

Just as he felt his knees finally sinking with the blood loss, the woman, who was the only reason he was still on his feet, pushed something into his mouth. It was wet and metallic and horrid, but like a man in the desert without water, he drank.

-

_a year later (1797)_

His lips worked their way from hers, to her cheek, down her jaw, finally reaching her neck where he was so soft and gentle he could feel her growing impatient beneath him, her hands rough on his back, pulling him closer to her.

Like itching a scratch, he transformed, fangs growing and just as soon biting into her.

The Doctor gasped, moaning into his ear as she held him in place. “Oh, Harry.”

“Master, call me Master,” he managed out, looking into her eyes with a blood-stained face.

She pushed against him, forcing them to roll over into the reverse position. She straddled his waist, legs tight against him, and he looked up to see her grinning, that sweet, red force of life still dripping down her neck. “Alright, Master,” she said, leaning down to return the favour.

-

_two-hundred and twenty-three years later (2020)_

“Doctor?” 

He looked the same, and she felt like if she still had a functioning heart, it might just be pounding now, because the rest of her felt so alive seeing him in the flesh again. “ _Harry_.” The name slipped out easier than she thought it would, and it was perhaps a power move to use that name instead of his chosen title. A reminder that this was the person she had murdered some two hundred years ago, and what remained was a monster that she couldn’t help but be drawn towards.

He snorted at the name, and she almost felt disappointed that she hadn’t got more of a reaction. “What the _hell_ happened to you? You were my sire, Doctor, my inspiration, my **everything** , and _now-”_

 _“Now_ ,” she interrupted, “Now, I’m doing the right thing.”

The Master grinned, a harsh laugh escaping his lips, and he turned as if to look up at an imaginary audience for advice, arms in the air like _what can you do?_ before he was suddenly coming at her, pushing her against the wall and holding her in place, a hand rough on her hip, and his other hand tracing its way down her face.

“Those witches sure did a number on you,” he said, voice so slow it was almost a whisper, his breath so warm against her neck. “It took me a long, long time to find out what happened to you. I was almost hurt, until I learned. A _soul_. How disgusting. I can _smell_ it on you.” The Doctor could hear footsteps coming from the other corridor, and something frantic rose within her. “But, Doctor...” This was punctuated with his tongue sliding up the skin of her neck, and she gasped despite herself. “I _will_ fix you. Or destroy you, if it’s the last thing I do.”

The Doctor took a steadying, unnecessary breath, before kicking his legs out from under him. He was punching back, the Doctor artfully dodging his hits whilst almost missing many of her own. They knew each other too well, knew each other’s plays and moves. Not even sixty years could do that much to change a century and a half spent together. It was only with the introduction of Yasmin Khan, the vampire slayer, from the other corridor that finally, the Master ran away.

And the Doctor ignored all questions and attempts at conversation with the others to go hide in her apartment. She supposed that she ran away too.

-

_a few months later_

“If you’ve come here to fight me again, I have to tell you, I’m _not_ in the mood.” The Master smiled at her despite his words, but maybe that had more to do with the dying man in his arms that she’d caught him in the middle of drinking from.

The Doctor rolled her eyes. “We can fight later, if you want. But for now, I have bigger plans.”

The Master’s eyebrows lifted a little, eyes carefully assessing her. “Is this a trick?”

The Doctor continued her saunter forward, glittering red lips. “Oh no, Harry. _This_ is the real deal.”

The dead man slumped out of the Master’s arms to the ground, and he began walking forward to meet her. They were barely an inch away, and she could still smell the blood of the man on his breath. The Master gave a long sniff down her neck, settling near her chest where a certain something was missing. “You’ve lost it.”

The Doctor grinned up at him, throwing her arms out in presentation. “Yeah, I’m back. That pesky soul-”

“Is none of our concern now,” the Master said, bloody lips reaching out for her own and she could taste _him_. The dead man, of course, but also the Master, her Harry. The Doctor kissed him back, deeply, before pulling away only to kiss at his neck, suckling and waiting for his breath to quicken and hitch in his throat before finally she reached forward to _really_ taste him again.

A purposeful spell to stop her murder spree had brought her misery, and another misguided spell had accidentally brought her return and the loss of her soul (again). The demon inside her was ecstatic, jumping and screaming and ready to party, and that nagging voice was gone. She almost couldn’t remember what it sounded like now. But nothing felt as good as _him_ against her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually have a few more scenes written within this au, including a lot more stuff about the fam's presence. it's literally about 1200 more words on top of all this. such stuff includes yaz as the vampire slayer, grace as her watcher, graham as reluctant newbie watcher after grace is murdered by a vampire, and ryan as someone just trying to get by after finding out that the world of vampires and demons exists. i have a ton more ideas, and i am debating turning this into a proper fic with all the connecting bits that make things make more sense, but i don't know if it's something people are interested in reading? i might still write it anyway, just for my enjoyment, but if you'd be interested please let me know! it's always encouraging when other people want to read it too!


	5. Napping in inappropriate places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this arguably doesn't follow the prompt, but i'm a rebel. it is quite angsty, and not super fluffy too. sometimes it just has to be that way.
> 
> tw: death mention. no one actually dies though.

The Master’s head rested on the Doctor’s shoulder. Soft breaths fell from their mouth every few moments, and the Doctor managed a smile. Slowing down with the Master was a rare and appreciated take on life. They’d met up so many times over the centuries, whether as each other’s ‘best enemy’, or more like this, reluctant friends, companions, somethings to each other. Something. That felt closest. They were _something_ to each other. That was true across the board. But moments like this were so rare. Where they slowed down, stopped, spent time together.

The Doctor was wary to describe their seventy-years on Earth with the Master in the vault as one of those occasions. There had been such long periods of implied silence from each other. Oh, they’d natter away about this and that, but there was so much anger and fear and worry and love and hatred that they’d never truly been able to slow down. Not till, perhaps, near the very end. Things started to change then. The Doctor had started picturing moments like this then, dreaming of times when it wasn’t a new and special occasion to be allowed time together to rest.

The Doctor vaguely appreciated the way the Master’s hair rubbed against the skin of their neck, and the way their beard was so rough that they could feel it through their t-shirt. Every version of the Master that they’d ever had a chance to be with like this had had facial hair, Missy being the sole outlier. Smooth and soft skin, though they more than made up for it with the hair on their head. Missy would rest against the Doctor and suddenly they’d find themselves with a mouthful of it. Not that they were a stranger to it, River after all had been the same. Either way, it had been a nice change, a gentle change. Even if the rest of Missy was never that way. Though, the Doctor supposed, wasn’t that the Master in general? It was only in those quiet moments, laying together like this, that they’d slow down, time dimming in its approach.

The Doctor tried to readjust their position, but gasped as a burst of pain crossed their stomach, and their eyes fluttered shut for just a moment as they waited for the pain to ease again. It was a mistake, and they grimaced, patiently listening to the Master’s breaths and counting the seconds.

The hand resting atop the wound was covered in blood by this point, the shoddy first-aid they’d given themself earlier no longer doing its job. They almost considered waking the Master up for help, but really there was nothing for either of them to do until they arrived at the end of the journey. The least they could do was let the Master rest so they could be prepared for the day ahead. If the Doctor was to be out of action, then someone needed to be ready. And, maybe more than that, the Doctor wasn’t really willing to verbalise and deal with what the wound might mean.

The same force that had pulled both their TARDISes to this planet like moths to a flame, had also taken their TARDISes away, and also seen the Doctor’s friends lost to some new time and place. There was so much that needed doing to repair the fractures in time and friendship, but the Doctor was trembling now. They felt clammy, dizzy, nauseous. Their short existence in this body felt like it was drawing nearer to a close, but it wasn’t there yet. Time swirled, the possibilities ebbing and flowing around them, and the Doctor was determined for that life-closing scenario to never arrive. Through sheer will, the Doctor _was_ going to stay alive.

Closing their eyes and resting their head on the Master’s, it was easier to pretend things were fine. That they were just resting beside their best friend in the fields of their home planet, and the world wasn’t ending, and their life wasn’t drifting away. It was calming in itself, to hear the familiar breathing and the double heartbeat of their oldest friend. With time dribbling past them, all decisions and fates still up in the air, the Doctor allowed a shallow sleep to claim them and finally relaxed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like right after this the doctor totally wakes up to an angry master who definitely aggressively performs first aid to tide them over until they get back to the tardis' while still yelling at them, and then they save the day and find the fam, who are also very cross with the doctor for just ignoring this life-endangering flesh wound. then the master, not letting the doctor out of his sight until they're properly healed, reluctantly tags along with them all as they hang out at the beach for awhile or something. and maybe ryan dunks the master's head under the water. i don't know the specifics, i just know reluctant love and friendship <3


End file.
